


Rage, rage against the dying of the light

by christinajoanne



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2018-10-06 14:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10336944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinajoanne/pseuds/christinajoanne
Summary: As he ruled as King, he contemplated the feelings festering inside of him. Was it wrong to fall in love in Narnia?





	1. Chapter 1

He witnesses it when he’s about sixteen.

He watches from the slip through the door as his brother takes a young, new maid with raven hair. He can’t see much; Peter’s bare back covers most of the view, but he does hear enough to understand what the two are partaking in.

“Please, High King! Faster!“

The woman’s milky legs wrap around the High King’s hips, inviting him by furthering opening her stance. With a groan, his brother throws his head back as he pulses a rhythm between the maid’s legs.

The entire scene lasts three minutes at most; and the younger King watches with large eyes as his brother stills above her, his back tightening with sweat. The woman raises her hips upward, inviting the man’s seed inside.

“I feel it inside, High King Peter. Please let it out inside!”

He answers her request readily as he presses a rough couple of forward thrusts into the woman before withdrawing away.

Edmund backs up slowly, listening cautiously as Peter dismisses the maid to quickly return to her cleaning duties.


	2. Chapter 2

“What was it like, Peter?”

The High King raises an arched brow as Edmund leans forward. 

“How was it? I want my own too. Could I just choose? There’s Aribelle on the first floor and I mean, I’ve always fancied Franny. She has this innocent thing going on.”

“What is it, Ed?” Peter asks with an amused chip on his cheek. He pushes his meal to the side as he beckons the butlers to quickly clear the table. Another butler runs up to slide Peter and Edmund’s black coats on, “Be quick. I need to attend to Susan soon. Go find Lu to play with.”

Edmund laughs as they walk through the front doors of the castle.

“The maid. The one you took in your bedchambers a moon ago. What was it like, Peter? I want my own too.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Do not tell Susan, Ed. I swear to Aslan -” The furrowed strain on the High King’s brow causes the younger King to slip further into himself.

Was it something he said?

“Relax, Peter. I’ve matured,” he cuts off. “I get it. You don’t want your personal sex life to mix with -”

“It’s not that,” Peter murmurs, tugging at his collar nervously and looking away shamefully. “It’s honestly not that.”

Edmund shrugs. “Well, uhm, yeah I’ll keep it from Susan. But yeah, about the - well you know - so does that mean, I mean, could I – ?”

Peter grabs a scarf and turns towards the carriage posted outside their castle, 

“You can do whatever you want, Ed. I mean, you are old enough I guess?”

He stops and looks over the boy, the clench in his jaw disproving his prior sentence. “I’ll see you then.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to see Susan before you left?”

A strained voice and cough escapes the High King as he replies. “Right, well. Just tell Susan, I’ll be back in a few days, I suppose.” 

Peter hurriedly scurries down the steps; large bags of luggage already prepared and ready for the man’s trip in the carriage.

Edmund watches curiously as his brother stops mid-step.

Peter turns back slowly and something glistens in his knowing eyes. He scans Edmund’s smug facade and weakly insists, “Listen, just know that yeah, things like that can be nice for a second or two. I don’t want to deny that.”

He looks at his hands almost searchingly, and Edmund notices a tiny shake to them. He meets his brother’s eyes with something Edmund could only describe as a frustrated longing. “There is nothing more indescribably fulfilling then being with someone you really care and cherish for, Ed. Believe me. Having someone you really love, Ed? It beats all those other things in a heart beat.”

Peter is met with a blank stare, and a clicked annoyance of his tongue has him scurrying back to the carriage at hand.

“Never mind. Just forget everything I said. Just understand that actions has consequences and -”

Peter’s words are thrown away with a flick of Edmund’s wrist, “Right, right, whatever you say, Pete.”


	4. Chapter 4

His first time is quick; embarrassingly short with no in-betweens.

The woman is older than him and she takes the lead; holding his length in her mouth teasingly as she sucks.

She makes him come three times before he is hard and ready against her entrance.

She rides him in stride, twisting her hips in expertise. He holds his breath as his fingers grab a harsh grip over her legs.

When he comes it is a rainbow of color behind his lids.

He rolls over and feels good for a second, and then empty for the next millions after.


	5. Chapter 5

A month passes.

Life goes on.

Mistresses come and go from his bedchambers like clockwork.

He contemplates his memories as a young boy in academy.

He had always heard stories from the boys back from the army draft, his brother’s age: How sex changed you; how necessarily important it was to fuck any girl who willingly opened their legs.

Edmund stares at the ceiling and turns over.

He knew there’d be consequences. He just wished he took Peter’s advice a bit more seriously.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s past midnight and the dryness in the back of his throat has the raven-haired king up and shuffling down the long hallway towards the marble staircase.

Quiet voices echo from an ajar room. Yellow light leaks in the hall and curiosity has Edmund peaking into the room. Two people sit on a large red couch, a burning fireplace sit behind them as conversation passes.

The man finishes his story and a smile passes the woman’s lips.

”That’s wonderful, isn’t it Peter? So I’m taking it that your trip went well?”

“The Western lands were beautiful. Green grass as far as the eyes could see. We could take the horses there. You would have so much room to practice archery too. You must come with me next time, Susan.”

Edmund watches the High Queen as she caresses the golden man’s locks.

”Seesh, Peter. You’ll never change will you?” Her voice has a tone of playfulness to it. “Have you found a nice, young princess to settle down with yet in these Great Western lands?”

He ignores her question.

“Tell me you’ll come next time,” he further insists. 

It sounds more like a command than a request.

“I’ll think about it, Peter.” Her response is gentle.

The High King’s face drops. “I’m serious, Su.” He leans towards her, attempting to grab her gaze towards him, but she’s quicker and she playfully takes his head and yanks it down on her lap.

The High King lets out a yelp which quickly turns into a pile of frustrated mumbles. He buries his face into her stomach as he wraps a lazy arm around her waist.

“So impatient.” She takes a throw blanket from the corner of his couch’s arm. “I said I’ll think about it. In the meantime, please get some rest.” 

She tucks one red blanket around Peter’s sprawled frame and tucks a second blanket around her own shoulders. 

She continues to scratch the back of his head. She knows it is the only way to put him to sleep.

”Mm,” Peter yawns, and Ed watches with wide eyes as a genuine, satisfied grin passes through the man’s lips. “That feels nice, Su.”

Edmund can’t place a time when he last saw Peter smile like that. 

Peter’s hand leans up to cup Susan’s cheek; the shadows of the red and yellow flames bouncing over their faces.

“You’d love the Western lands, Su.”

She smiles back gently, their fingers intermingling on her face. “I’m sure I would too.”

Edmund backs up from the scene slowly. He clenches his velvet robe over his chest. 

Something washes over him. 

He feels like he has intruded on something he shouldn’t have seen.

Edmund contemplates and shakes his head in negation as he shuffles down toward the kitchen.

Peter should really learn to close and lock his door.


	7. Chapter 7

“What is love?” he whispers to himself as he watches dozes of dandelions scatter in the wind.

Lucy looks at her brother in surprise, the green stems of dandelions still hanging in her hand.

“Where did that come from?”

“Just answer the question.”

Lucy laughs and he turns to watch her tuck a blonde strand of hair to the back of her ear.

“Susan told me it’s the thing that keeps you up at night making wrong decisions.”

“That sounds about right,” he replies back.

“Have you ever tasted the lips of another, Ed?”

The blue sky shines over their picnic blanket. Flowers adorn each corner of the sheet as a young Queen twines flower crowns.

The question takes the young King by surprise, and instead of answering, he responds with a hard stare.

“Don’t give me that or I’m leaving,” she threatens. 

“Aren’t you a bit too young to be asking such questions?”

“So I can answer questions about romance, but I can’t ask of them?”

He pushes the crown of flowers to her open palms. He places his face into the grass. “Stay as young and naive as you are now. You’ll have plenty of time to get into that.”

Lucy puffs her cheeks and digs her fingers gently into his raven locks. “Jeez, so you’re an expert now? I’m fifteen summers old, Ed. I’m entitled to be…curious.”

He rolls his eyes as he turns his head back to stare up into her angry face. Her fingers dip down from his hair to his cheek. “Curious about what? There’s nothing to be curious about. It’s dry skin against dry skin.”

She places the rose crown albeit too roughly over his mouth. She bites, “Just kiss the roses!”

“What is it you’re curious about?”

Lucy sighs as she gets up, her yellow dress blowing in the wind. She makes a stance with her arms as she hums a mellow tune, “In these stories that Peter would read to me, there’d always be a man who’d grab his lady by the waist, and they’d dance the night away. They’d fall in love.”

“And?”

“What do you mean by ‘and’?” She kicks at the grass. “That’s what I’m curious about! That’s what I want. That!”

Edmund rolls his eyes, “Jeez. Such lofty ideas. Your head is always in the clouds. Things like that never happen.”

He takes the fallen lilies from her piles of flowers and picks at the stems. “Want to know something more believable? A man grabbing you by the waist, saying sweet nothings in your ear one second, only to have him coerce you out of your dress the next.”

Lucy stomps her foot on the ground in frustration, “Sure, they are lofty ideas, but not impossible ones. Since when did you become such a cynical person?”

“Since I’ve became that man,” Edmund rolls his eyes, “Believe me, Lucy. Guys are all the same, and believe me our ideas of dancing only includes a bed and some sheets.”

She grabs at his hands and pulls at it, the movement forcing him up on his knees just from her mere strength. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Up!”

“What?”

“I said get up, right now. Come on, Ed!”

"What the hell?”

“Now, Ed!”

He stands up begrudgingly as she places his hand on her waist. 

She starts a rhythm, her dress brushing his shins as they sway to an imaginative background sound.

“Now, isn’t this nice?”

His face is stone cold with boredom as he takes in the scenery behind her instead. “Uh-huh.”

“Now, imagine this.” She places her chest against him and cups his cheek. “A woman you’re in love with. You have her close and she smells of light lavender.”

“You’re a little too close,” he points out as he steps back.

She pouts her lips and grips his back bone, “You’re not taking this seriously enough!”

“Lucy - “

Her patience breaks, “Edmund! Please! For once in your life, just do this one thing for me, please?”

He looks into her eyes; and he sees a genuine frustration. He sighs and nods dumbly as he allows her to walk them through her act. “Continue then.”

“Anyways,” she ignores the sarcasm biting at his last comment, “You spot her out among the dozen of other women at the ball. And your eyes meet.”

Edmund’s eyes drift down to lock with her own. Lucy tips her toes up and her voice tickles his cheek, “She tells you a joke in your ear, and nothing sounds more lovelier than her laugh, her soft voice. And so you keep the conversation going.”

Wind piles around them, lifting her dress and hair to swirl around them. The light of the sun hits her cheeks, causing a lovely, innocent glow.

His voice comes out a bit more huskier than he’d ever heard himself before. “Oh?”

Her closeness causes a strange tickle in the pit of his stomach.

He tries to pull back but her touch stops him.

He feels his heart race as her fingers caresses a nice, path down his neck.

Edmund can’t take his eyes away, and he finds himself readily listening for the next line. His chest stings.

“You dance, and dance, and dance the night away. You feel like time is standing still.”

He can’t stop himself as his fingers wring her in closer.

They sway with the wind; Lucy’s hair dancing around them, “And for the first time in a long time you realize that just this is fine. Not being mixed up in sheets, not knowing each other’s skin, but just like this, having her in your arms.”

He swallows the lump in his throat.

Lucy continues as she cups his cheeks, their eyes locks as she tilts her lips up towards his own, “And with her in your arms you think you possibly know what love is.”

He’s drawn in.

Just a few more inches – and —

She stops then. Abruptly.

She removes herself from his arms and he finds the free space between their bodies way too empty for his liking.

“There?” she asks, kneeling back onto the picnic quilt. “Now, wouldn’t you want that? To find that with someone? Was I that delusional?”

He swallows the lump in his throat and dumbly nods. His gaze drifts and lingers over the back of her dress, and he notices the open skin there.

He stubbornly responds in a weak voice, “To find someone like that though. Seems impossible.”

Her angry voice is background noise to his beating heart.

What was that?


	8. Chapter 8

They grow closer with each passing season; and he finds himself wanting her company. The older she gets, the more pestering her questions becomes, and he finds her introspection and her opinions fascinating. 

He brings her books; books about theories of life, the creation of the world, and the search for purpose. With much fervor they rush to their horses to find the patches in the garden they call their place. 

He no longer finds himself being dragged into her company; no, in truth - he waits for the days where they can lie alone in the shades of the trees, and she is his alone. 

He ignores the beating of his heart that tells him that he is entering a forbidden place, a place that is too hurtful to thread through. He makes dozens of excuses in his head, telling himself that it just her company, specifically only her sisterly company - that he yearns for, and nothing more.

Edmund dips the book down past his nose as he takes in the way her blond hair curls over her eyes in a type of shade. His eyes fall down to her neckline, and as she arches her neck, he sees her white shift peek through her tunic. 

"I love being with you just like this Ed," she admits to him out of nowhere; breaking his concentration. He feels his heart beating fast through his ears, and he hopes she is far enough to evade its loud sound. Her voice surprises him as she meets his eyes for a brief moment before burying her face in her book. He digs his face into his own book once more. A far part of him wonders if maybe - just maybe it was this he was truly looking for when he searching for love within his bedchamber's sheets. 

He turns the page of his book. 

"Me too."


	9. Chapter 9

The older they get, the more suitors follow.

The number of men asking for Susan’s hand in marriage causes Peter to change his facade and countenance.

High piles of burned letters sit in the garbage by his desk.

Susan remains mum, and during balls Edmund notices the insincere, unapologetic expression of his brother's face.

“Why won’t you let Susan decide, Peter?”

Peter looks up from his desk, “And has she ever went against any of my decisions? Perhaps you’ve never thought about it, but maybe she willingly agrees to my choices?”

Edmund looks on and bites his lip, silencing the curses he wishes to shout at the High King.

“I rather not fight with you, Peter. I’ll be in my chambers if you need me.”

His tunic whips around his ankles and the sound of sharp boots echoes in the room to declare his departure. 

Peter looks at him with an odd expression, and a smirk nips the edges. “Lucy has been getting letters as well you know. Not many, but they multiply with every year she ages.”

His words causes the younger King to stop; the sharp, almost provoking tone of the High King forcing Edmund to clench his fist.

Edmund tilts his head and squares his shoulders back, “And?”

“Does it bother you?”

“And, why, perchance would it bother me?”

He watches the octave of his breathing, controls the anger in his voice. 

Peter sets his papers down as he arches an eyebrow, “Was I wrong?”

Edmund clears his throat as he turns around to face the door out, “And I’m saying I don’t know what you’re talking about! Goodnight, Peter!”


	10. Chapter 10

“That marriage meeting of yours…have you…”

“Cancelled,” Peter answers briskly; his eyes scanning the papers on his desk. “Edmund, I’m busy. If you’re just going to ask pointless questions, could you just leave?”

“But Peter,” Edmund adds, “Susan strictly asked me to ask you -”

“I know what Susan probably asked and I’ve told her a million times no. The answer is no.” 

Edmund places a slow hand over his brother’s shoulder, “Listen, Susan asked me to talk to you. If it’s about the girl in question, Susan said it’s negotiable. She just wants a list of what you’re looking for exactly. You know, in the looks or personality department…I mean, I’ve been thinking you do have a preference for the soft, gentle types. And black hair maids! What about Susan setting you up with –”

Edmund hears the toppling of a wooden chair and watches with wide eyes as a angry High King screams, “What is wrong with the way things are? I have a queen, a High Queen. I am her High King. There will be only one, that I’d want to spend my life with! She is already at my side.”

The answer is short and vague, but it is enough for Edmund to slowly approach the High King’s desk with knowing eyes.

“P-peter…”

He swallows the lump in his throat as he covers his face with his hand. “Fuck.”


	11. Chapter 11

He finds himself drawn to blonde hair, creamy white skin, and playful, dreamy eyes.

Their time on that hill changed him, and the new revelation from Peter doesn’t help. 

He turns back and forth in his bedchambers until the heat becomes too much for him and he calls for a maid to handle his needs.


	12. Chapter 12

It’s been months since their last conversation. Millions of questions build up inside of him and he finds himself at the edge of Peter’s desk.

“Since when?”

“Her 16th birthday perhaps,” he answers despondently; almost as if he had been planning an answer ever since they last talked.

“But she’s our…our sister, Peter. We cannot, I mean…it’s -- its...” The raven headed king drops his head into his palms.

Peter shrugs as he steps away from his chair, “I am quite aware. But once you’re in Narnia long enough. You’ll understand it as well, Ed. The thing you are looking for. That is what Susan is for me.”

Peter looks back at him searchingly, “You can be happy.”

Edmund raises his head, swallowing the lump in his throat, and he knows that Peter probably knows. He has known. 

“I can’t, Peter.”

The High King stares out into the large garden that overlooks his office. Edmund follows his steps and stands next to his brother; his gaze following the statues, woods, and dark lamps that line the garden walls.

Tiny nymphs follow the trail; another set of familiar feet marching in-step.

“Lucy! Hurry up!” The High Queen of Narnia pesters as they run down the trail into the woods.

“Coming!” Lucy answers in laughter.

"One day I will make her mine, Edmund, I swear it." 

Edmund looks at Peter, alarm in his eyes, “You can’t! I know that Susan is beautiful, but there are others – more beautiful, more intelligent, more — girls out there. And I mean, Susan has a temper…and –”

“What I feel for her is only genuine. If I had wanted any whore I’d find love in my bedchambers, and we wouldn’t be having this issue.”

Edmund shakes his head as his eyes follow the younger queen. He watches her white dress cling to the shy curves of her hips and bosom. Since when did she…? He thinks of the life she will live without him in due time; a life filled with new journeys and adventures; a life he can only hope fills her with as much happiness as she has given him. 

Peter places his hand on his brother's shoulder, reaching out a palm to wipe away the tears that he did not realize had fallen. 

"One day you too will have the courage to find happiness for yourself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys ~ sorry I wrote the story and sort of abandoned it. I hope these new 5 chapters appease your anger.


	13. Chapter 13

“Did you and Edmund have a fight recently?” a voice asks, breaking his concentration; an accompanying hand over his shoulder following the question.

The High King tips his head backwards, “Susan.” 

The silhouette of her dress dances from the fire of his fireplace. She turns around to lock the study door, before walking back tentatively to his desk. 

“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she bows her head apologetically; her eyes lingering over the paper notes that rests on his desk and in between his fingers.

“Oh, this? Don’t fret over that,” Peter says with a smile as he takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes and focuses on her. 

Her hesitant smile and unsure pout is immediately erased as he takes her hand gently into his own, “You won’t ever disturb me.”

Susan smiles back sheepishly as she sits on his desk and straightens out his papers into two clean lines.

“Is that what Edmund said, ‘a fight’?” he asks quietly, watching her; taking in the silhouette the fire makes over her curves. His lips nip into a teasing smile, “Why, were you worried?”

He takes the glass of wine that rests on his side table; the bubbly liquid making the room feel warm in heat as it travels down his throat.

“Well, of course I’m worried! Something has been different between you two lately. I just feel like a big wall is between you two, and it is making me – ”

“Peter, stop!” she gasps as Peter swings his head back and roars a deep laugh. “No, Peter, I’m serious! Is there anything wrong? I’m sure I can be of some help. If either of you just let me in, I’d -”

“Stop,” Peter says, raising his palm up before her.

“But Peter, I -

“Listen. Don’t worry, Susan,” Peter says with finality, the look in his eye forcing Susan to bite her tongue immediately. “The matter has been taken care of. And it wasn’t a fight, it was a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” She asks, her mouth opening and closing as she takes in his words. Her brows arch in question as she tilts her head, “About what?”

He finishes his glass of wine and places the empty bottle on the floor.

“Don’t worry about it, my dear, Susan,” Peter replies, grabbing his glasses and shuffling the rest of his papers. “It has nothing to do with you. You wouldn’t understand.”

The High King immediately pales, noticing his poor choice of words. He turns his head towards his Queen, who has her arms crossed around her chest.

“’Nothing to do with me?’” Susan asks taken aback her voice caught in the back of her throat; the slight shake in her voice telling Peter how much he hurt her. “’I wouldn’t understand?’ Now, Peter. I know me and Lucy haven’t exactly received the combat training that you and Edmund received - but I can - in fact, I do - I place important input into battle strategies and even personal affairs. I’m sure I’d be able to handle - ”

“Susan, please,” Peter groans, ruffling his golden hair into a messy patch and sighing, “Stop. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, okay?”

He takes her hands in his, attempting to rectify the situation, “ I’ve been a bit tired lately. Alot has been on my mind. Me and Edmund are fine, please, don’t worry.”

Peter watches as the candles on his desk and mantle burn dimly in his office. Shadows chase each other over his walls, and the scent of Susan’s oils travel under his nose, intoxicating him; overwhelming him. “So, please," his voice croaks in uneasiness, "if you could now get to bed. I’ll see you in the morning. I have a lot of work to finish.”

Her scent tempts him, and he takes a deep breath when she takes a step towards him and throws her body into his own.

“Let me in, Peter,” Susan urges, “Don’t you trust me? Don’t you trust me at all?”

“Of course I do,” he murmurs, backing up slightly as she bends her body even closer into his own; her breast tight against his chest.

“B-before, I do something I might regret…” he attempts as he feebly pushes her back with the weak muscles that just beg him to pull her in closer.

The room feels warm; her skin, her lips close to his own, almost begging to be kissed, “Please, Su, go to bed.”

Susan shakes her head as she places her fingers on his neck, and he hopes that she can’t feel his pulse; he hopes she cant feel the growing arousal that feels tight around his breeches. Her fingers slides down his shoulders, down his elbow, until they twine in his own.

She steps back, their eyes meeting as he holds his breath, taking in her face. 

Her black locks curl lovely around her face, the natural bareness of her white creamy skin implying to the High King her innocence; telling all suitors how she's never been touched by any other man. 

“I’m your High Queen…aren’t I?”

Her question triggers something deep inside of himself and something else possess him as he wraps his arms tight around her own.

He stands up then, pushing her body against the edge of his desk. She looks up to find distress in her brother’s face. It’s a look she’s never seen before; a countenance filled with pain and pure need. 

He cages her with his strong palms as he dips his face inches away for hers. “Of course you are,” he growls. 

His voice causes her to pull back in fear. A voice that doesn’t sound like his own escapes his throat, “Of course you’re my Queen. And I’m your High King, right? Your only High King, right?”

Her voice gets caught in her throat as his fingertips dip to press into her hip bones. She smells the wine linger on his lips as her breath quickens, intermingling close to his own. Her voice comes off as a feeble plea, instead of a commanding one, “P-peter…”

He dips his lips into the crook of her neck, and a moan that doesn’t sound like her own voice flees her throat as his lips tentatively press a kiss to her pulse. 

Her arms come to press into the High King’s shoulder, confusion obviously written in her tone, “P-please, Peter, s-stop, I…I…”

The smell of his cologne lingers beneath her nose; and the look of a hungry predator finally catching it’s prey, has her reluctantly shivering.

“Say my name again, Su,” he commands lowly, his voice rough in her ears. His hands cup the curve of her hip as he pushes her closer to the edge of his desk. “Your voice is so beautiful.”

His hips and legs pushes her skirts up, revealing white creamy legs. He finds the way between her legs and she chokes out a sigh as her center touches the heat and rough, hard pattern hidden beneath his breeches.

Susan’s eyes close to the wondrous ways his fingers play her. Something she can’t describe pulses through her body, and it yearns for something she thinks only Peter can provide.

Peter’s eyes darken, watching her open, panting mouth. His lips slowly comes down to touch over hers - lightly as first - testing the waters, waiting for her reaction.

When Susan doesn’t back away, he presses his lips harder against her’s, using her back and her hip to softly grind and thrust into her. 

“You feel so good, Su,” he grumbles as she pushes her back onto his desk so he is over her, staring down.

His hands cup her hips as he softly commands her to wrap her legs around his back. “It’ll ease the ache,” he murmurs, answering the question in her head.

She does, albeit in a daze.

She presses back shyly, her pelvis tilting to receive the hard shape that brushes the top of her womanhood so deliciously.

She can’t stop the way her body reacts as she links her fingers into his hair.

He pulses a gentle rhythm between her legs, her sighs music to his ears; watching with careful eyes at her reactions.

Their clothed centers touch with so much carefulness and gentleness.

“It feels…” she attempts as Peter’s fingers round their way to her knee and travels upward. He rubs his length against her seam, and she groans his name again.

“How does it feel, Susan?”

“Peter, I’m scared…” she confesses as his fingers travels up and touches the length of her underwear, soaking and waiting for him. 

"Don’t be, my love,” he whispers; nipping her ear, before his fingers touch the top of her silk.

“It’s natural, my love,” he gently teaches.

“Something is coming…” Susan tries to explain. “It’s coming, Peter.”

“Yes, my darling,” he replies back, his voice rough, grating into a pained whisper. His hips beat quickly into her own, as his fingers find the edges of her underwear and pushes it aside. “Let it take over you.”

His eyes roll to the back of his head, feeling her wetness coat his fingers. He pulls his head back, watching as her neck arches and her eyes clench tight. “Please, Peter…”

When his fingertips touches her entrance, slipping a single inch into tight, slippery warmth, she screams his name, shuddering in her first orgasm. 

The feel of her opening clenching his finger has the High King pressing a rough thrust against his Queen before following her. He whispers her name reverently as he buries his face into her neck, shuddering, “Oh, Susan. Oh Susan, my sweet Susan.”

Her arms comes and wraps around his back, accepting him, as he presses small, gentle thrusts into her body, drawing out his climax.

They can’t go back. Not anymore.


End file.
